


Steve Rogers' and Bucky Barnes' Home for Accidentaly Summoned Demons

by TheKitteh



Series: WinterIron Bingo Adventure [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Demon Summoning, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Bodyguard Bucky, Bucky's POV, Clint is still a disaster, Crack, Demon!Clint, Demon!Natasha, Demon!Pepper, Demon!Tony, F/M, Human Steve, M/M, Painter Steve, Steve's Pov, Swearing, Tony is still a little shit, aboslutely no seriousness involved, human bucky, like if you're looking for any plot?, not really the place, switching POV, this is absolute crack you guys, this is fun and quiry and insane, warning for inhuman amounts of coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 01:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16692784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKitteh/pseuds/TheKitteh
Summary: Their lives are normal, if boring.Steve paints. Bucky does his job as a bodyguard for hire. Days go by, nothing changes.And then one day, Steve decides to drunkenly carve a pentagram into a pizza.





	Steve Rogers' and Bucky Barnes' Home for Accidentaly Summoned Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faustess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/gifts), [rebelmeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/gifts), [Cinnamon_Anemone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Anemone/gifts), [rudearrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudearrow/gifts), [Menatiera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menatiera/gifts), [martianwahtney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/martianwahtney/gifts), [Eirlyssa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirlyssa/gifts), [Katie_Hawkeye_Bishop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie_Hawkeye_Bishop/gifts).



**_Bucky’s POV_ **

 

Like almost everything in his life, of course, it began with Steve, Bucky thinks, staring at the scene before his eyes.

 

Steve’s standing with the most gobsmacked expression on his face, his back pressed to the fridge, and with good reason, too. The kitchen table’s a mess - there are coffee grounds spilled all over it, five mugs filled with coffee placed in different directions and the pot in the middle of it all. 

 

Or rather, the pot in the hands of the most beautiful man Bucky’s ever seen in the middle of it all. 

 

He looks like a wet dream, with a white shirt wound tight around his torso and pants that had to be sprayed on. The top buttons of the shirt are popped open, revealing the dip between his collarbones that looks made for licking. His hair is a mess begging to be pulled, eyes that can put amber and whiskey and any other poetic shit to shame. He crawls down the table in the most sensual, exaggerated way possible, presenting an ass that just won’t quit and Bucky covers his face with one hand.

 

Of-fucking-course.

 

“Steve.”

 

“It was an accident!” 

 

“So,” the man drawls, looking from Steve to Bucky and back to Steve again, “Which one of you fine fellas is giving me their soul for all eternity in exchange for the most perfect cup of joe in your damned life?”

 

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, because really, how is this his life?

 

“Steve.” He takes a deep breath and looks at his best friend slash pain in the ass, “What did I tell you about making pentagrams?”

 

Steve shuffles his feet and for all his huge everything, manages to look like a schoolboy properly chastised. He takes a peek at the man, who seems to have conjured a clean mug and is helping himself to a cup of coffee. “Don’t do it?”

 

The man grins, the sharp teeth a bit too sharp to be innocent.

 

“So, your pretty little twinkling soul then, yes?” he coos, taking a step toward Steve.

 

Before any of them can react, smoke suddenly fills the kitchen. Bucky closes his eyes, hearing a curse and the sound of glass shattering, a pitiful moan following. He did not sign up for this at any point of his life.

 

And fucking hell, all this before _ his _ first cup of coffee of the day, too.

 

“Aw, coffee, no.” The smoke clears and yes, indeed, there’s Clint. 

 

Bare feet in the middle of a coffee spill, the remains of the mug scattered over the floor. He’s wearing Steve’s old sweats, both legs and the waistline rolled up, and looking like more of a disaster than usual. He raises one foot miserably, watches coffee drip from his toes and doesn’t acknowledge their newest guest just yet. 

 

He himself, however, does not go unnoticed if the shock on the newcomer’s face is anything to go by.

 

“Clint?” The man blinks up at him and Clint jerks his head up. 

 

The smile on his face is blinding and Bucky barely stops himself from slamming his head on the wall next to him.

 

Allow him to repeat himself. Of-fucking-course.

 

“Tony, hi!” He reaches out only to have the man - no, Tony the demon apparently - take one step back cradling his mug protectively. “Oh come on, gimme. You have no idea what sludge they drink here!” 

 

Tony throws Steve and Bucky a glare before he turns to Clint again. The surprise is gone and now there’s only pure, bright red rage. 

 

“You little piece of shit, this is where you’ve been hiding for the last month??” There’s literally hellfire in his eyes as he stomps over, glass and spillage ignored completely. He steps into the puddle of coffee and with a vicious hiss, it evaporates in thick clouds of steam from under his feet. “I had to take all of your fucking shifts! Fury’s furious, you missed three briefings! And don’t even get me started on Nat, she’s out for blood with the way you fucked off the grid!”

 

Clint makes a terrified sound in the back of his throat, looking like a wet puppy more than anything else. Steve still tries to back himself into the fridge, his apologetic look all the more crushing, and Bucky sighes. 

 

“For the record, he’s not exactly been hiding,” he says calmly because apparently, he’s the only grown-up in this room, fuck his life. Tony stares at him, eyes back to the pretty brown from before. He shrugs moves to get a cup for himself. “Same shit happened as with you. Steve summoned him and we can’t send him back.”

 

The silence that falls in the kitchen is impressive. Bucky’s certain he could hear a hair fall onto the floor if he tried hard enough.

 

“What do you mean,  _ can’t _ ?” Tony says, voice oddly high pitched, putting the pot away almost blindly and that’s what Bucky’s been waiting for. He snags it, pours himself a hefty dose and keeps the pot away from Clint making grabby hands at it.

 

Clint’s an overexcited puppy as it is right now, no need to caffeinate him further. 

 

“Jus’ what I said, darlin’,” he takes a sip, fights off a moan as the smooth taste explodes all over his tongue. Tony’s left eye twitches, “Steve’s an idiot, not a witch or summoner or whatever the fuck is needed to bring you guys here.”

 

“Hey!” Steve protests and finally, finally leaves his post. He straightens up, squares his shoulders, “It was for exposure!”

 

“Ex… a coffee pot pentagram, for exposure, really?” Tony puffs his chest out, clearly offended. He stalks over to Steve and Bucky cracks a smile at the sight of them. One very pissed of, huffy demon and a wide-eyed Steve looking down at him “You. Big, blonde and sparkly, am I getting this right? You were dealing with powers unknown for  _ exposure?  _ You summoned not one, but  _ two _ demons for shits and giggles? _ ” _

 

“The memes are all the rage now, trending on Twitter!” Steve protests and that’s his frowny face right there, complete with the arms crossed.

 

People tend to shrivel up under that look, like leaves in November. No one wants to see Steve like this, where his lips thin out and his eyes turn cold under furrowed brows. Bucky’s as familiar with that expression as he is with his own, but others? They cave in and give Steve what he wants.

 

Demons, however, are apparently immune. 

 

Tony throws his hands up, mutters something in a language Bucky is not familiar with and then rubs a hand over his eyes. 

 

“Unbe-fucking-lievable.” He sounds oddly resigned, and then he adds, “I had a fresh batch of muffins baking,” as he stares at the spilled coffee beans and mugs table. Ten minutes ago he looked like sin personified (hah!) and now he looks like a pouty kid. 

 

“Ehn, cheer up Tony, it’s not that bad.” Clint offers, patting him on the shoulder. “I get them pizzas every Thursday for letting me bunk with ‘em!” 

 

This somehow makes Tony slump in on himself even further and Bucky almost feels sorry for the guy. Creature. Demon.

 

Whatever.

He’s also silently grateful to any deity that watches over him that they already went through this with Clint, or he would be very, very much doubting his own sanity by now. 

 

He and Steve both grew up with stories of the occult, of witches and forests and demons trading you favors in return for your soul at abandoned crossroads.  

 

Funnily enough, no one ever mentioned a literal disaster of a demon popping up when you’d carve a pentagram on a ham and olive pizza. Or a coffee one, with the prettiest set of eyes known to man. 

 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry?” Steve says almost shyly and well look at that, not even a demon can resist the power of Steve Rogers’ pleading puppy eyes.

 

Tony looks like he’s a second away from walking over and hugging Steve, who is literally fiddling with his thumbs like a boy on his first day of school. Bucky would know - he saw that with his two own eyes. 

 

“Ugh, fuck,” Tony groans finally, seemingly accepting his fate. “And of course I have to be stuck with the someone who’s so good he fucking shines with it.”

 

\---

 

And that’s how James Bucky Barnes finds himself being roommates with one Steve Rogers, his lifelong friend, and pain in the ass, as well as upcoming artist and social media darling, a food demon Clint Barton - who should never be left unattended- and a coffee demon Tony Stark. 

 

\--- 

 

The definite upsides of having Tony around, in Bucky’s opinion, are a few.

 

The first and foremost is, of course, the coffee.

 

Bucky’s not sure what unearthly rituals exactly Tony goes through to prepare the beverage, but it’s a literal heaven in a cup. Strong, essential, a perfect blend to fit each of their tastes. Steve gets his daily fix of hot milk with a splash of coffee in the mornings. Bucky always took his coffee black and unsweetened, but it never tasted like this, now that Tony’s in charge. 

 

Then there’s the baking. 

 

Apparently, baked goods as a must, when it comes to making good coffee perfect. Tony bakes. Muffins and tartlets are his usual choice, but on weekends there are also fresh milky buns and herbal bagels, lemon cakes and madeleines so airy and fluffy Steve’s certain he whisks them up purely with magic. 

 

Loaves of bread of different kinds pop up every third day and almost all the neighbors - sans the kids from 2B - are starting to look at them with suspicion. Which, fair, Bucky supposes, their place is not the place where people live who can afford to purchase baking ingredients in bulk. Both Bucky and Steve don’t ask, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth and generally speaking? They are better off not knowing. 

 

It’s the same deal as with Clint’s pizzas. They just happen to appear, mouth-watering smell and all.

 

There are days when Bucky wonders what will be the price to pay, but he reassures himself that neither of them actually  _ made _ a deal with either of the demons. They’re just, to put it simply, stuck with each other. 

 

The bad side of it all?

 

Tony fucking Stark. 

 

Bucky’s not exactly certain how in seven hells and then some that guy got assigned as a  _ coffee demon _ and not in charge of more carnal desires. He was a goddamn treat, the only thing lacking was a fucking bow. His clothes were form-fitting, pants all tight like a second skin and the first time he bent to rummage through the bottom drawer, Bucky walked into a wall. 

 

Oh, and the little fucker  _ knew  _ damn well what he did to Bucky. 

 

He’s prone to waltzing up to him, spoon in hand, asking for a taste of whatever it was on the utensil. Pushing in so close, fingertips brushing against Bucky’s chin as he offers the food. Eyes ablaze and downright twinkling. He’d lick his lips when Bucky licked his, seemingly anticipating his verdict. It was always the same, some version of ‘damn that’s delicious’ and Tony - demon, for crying out loud - would grin, cheeks pinking up, and walk away.

 

And the way his ass looks every single day makes Bucky want to bend him over the counter. In all honesty, it’s no surprise Tony’s a demon. No human butt could ever look that sinful. 

 

Bucky likes watching and Tony clearly likes being watched. He’d be strutting with his tail all spread wide if he were a peacock, Bucky’s sure of it. 

 

But alas, Bucky’s a grown man, he’s got his urges under control (shut up, Steve), and so they live happily, the four of them. Two men and their two demon roommates.  

 

It’s all fine, and dandy, and in all honesty, Bucky’s pretty happy with his life.

 

\---

 

It’s a Summer day, somewhere around month number three since Tony’s arrival, and Bucky’s getting ready for his job and the rest of them are sprawled over the ratty sofa. The air’s thick and humid, the heat causing his clothes to stick to his back as soon as he puts them on. With envy, he throws them a glance; he’d rather lounge in boxers and t-shirts than pull on the stiff-collared suit, even if it meant watching the reruns of the Great British Bake Off for yet another time. 

 

There’s a knock on the door and none of the lazy, overheated fuckers bats an eyelash, so it’s up to Bucky to do the honors.

 

He must have missed the memo that made him the Mom and the Dad alike of this interspecies household. 

 

“One day, all three of you will lounge yourselves to your deaths,” he mumbles and opens the door. He blinks at the woman in front of him, sure he’s never seen her in his or Steve’s life. “Uh...may I help you?”

 

She has eyes hard to cut glass, hair styled in the most perfect curls Bucky has ever seen on a woman. Her mouth is set in a pout, lips full and if Bucky didn’t have a demon personifying walking sex on legs right there in his living room, he’d be cranking up the charm right about now.

 

“You can move,” she says, voice cold like a winter wind, her smile full of teeth and danger.

 

Unlike Steve, Bucky’s got high self-preservation skills and instincts to back them up. And so he does the only rational thing. 

 

He moves.

 

Watches her go inside, a hip sway sensual enough to lead mankind to doom. She stops in the doorway leading to the tiny living room, the TV blasting at full volume and Clint throwing popcorn whenever one of the judges appears on the screen. 

 

“Having fun, boys?” 

 

Both Clint and Tony go through the roof. 

 

That is literally the only explanation Bucky has because one second they’re squished around Steve, the next they’re gone from sight. The woman scoffs, snaps her fingers and both materialize again in the far corner of the room

 

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Tony hisses, obviously having gathered his wits around, “Do you want to give me a heart attack?” 

 

“Why, did you finally manage to grow one?” She croons sweetly and Bucky shudders, the syrupy thick voice as much of a threat as Bucky’s ever heard one.

 

Steve’s blinking up at her, cheeks reddening slightly. He’s a charmer and a old soul, a gentleman in a model’s body, his Steve. Whoever she is, she’s a fine woman and Steve’s probably registering how underdressed they all are, compared to the way she’s dressed up from the neck down.

 

Steve then blinks, turns to Bucky.

 

“I didn’t do it!” 

 

Clint bursts out laughing and literally launches himself at her. With a move too fast for either Bucky and Steve to follow, she twists and has Clint on the floor, his hands pinned above his head.

 

One knee on his chest, keeping him where she wanted him to be.

 

“Hey, Nat,” Cling breathes out with reverence and  _ oh _ . 

 

“Fucking hell, another one.” Bucky slaps his own face, ignores the mad cackle coming from Tony. 

 

Oh, they heard about Nat, alright. 

 

Once they managed to get Clint drunk and he spent three hours waxing poetic about the woman. She’s somehow the most beautiful and most terrifying creature to walk around Hell, with the prettiest smile and the deadliest hands. 

 

A heads-up would have been nice however, that demons could invite themselves over without being summoned.

 

“I should tear you apart,” she says in the calmest voice Bucky’s ever heard and he has no doubt that she could. Her fingers flex on Clint’s wrists and he keeps smiling up at her as she personally hung the sun, moon and all the stars. 

 

“Missed you too,” Clint’s smile becomes impossibly fond and soft, and he tilts his head up and… oh, ok. 

 

Steve throws himself into the kitchen, cheeks flaming red, and Bucky is pushed into the tiny corridor leading towards the door, Tony being not that gentle in his administrations. 

 

“Trust me, you don't wanna see that,” he mumbles, hands on Bucky’s back as he pushes him forward. “They’re hardly subtle.”

 

“Yeah, I-I kinda got that,” Bucky stutters, sways a little because those hands are so fucking warm he can feel them through his clothes. “Never though you demons… you know. Paired up.”

 

Tony scoffs, rolls his eyes at him. 

 

“Your religions have no idea what they’re talking about,” he grins a too sharp grin, eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares up at Bucky. 

 

Well  _ clearly  _ they don’t, Bucky agrees silently, because not one religion mentions demon couples. Or the baking, or that a demon can get tired like a human does, and look five hundred times more adorable while rubbing their eyes. Or that one can carve its place in a human heart, fill their dreams with hot gasps and sweet nothings.

 

“Clearly,” he mutters instead, reaches for his jacket. There’s one thought rattling in his mind as he finishes dressing up, Tony watching him intently, as if Bucky was the single most interesting thing in the world.

 

It’s a heady feeling, to be the center of his attention like this. 

 

There’s a torn off moan coming from the living room, and Bucky would place all of his money that it’s Clint’s. He feels his cheeks warm, something coiling tight in the pit of his stomach. Bucky’s not really certain he like the feeling. 

 

“Save Steve will ya, before your friend does her work?” He dares to look up. 

 

Tony’s still staring at him, still looking like his teenage fantasy come true in low hanging boxers and too tight tank top. Looks good enough to gobble him up, skin on display just begging to be tasted. He’s fairly sure he could have Tony gasping and moaning his name five minutes after getting his hands and tongue on him. 

 

Sweet baby Jesus, but Bucky’s screwed.

 

“She can’t take us back, you know,” Tony says finally, taking a step forward. He reaches out, fixes the way Bucky’s collar is propped. HIs fingers linger, brush against the soft skin of Bucky’s throat. His voice is a rasp that curls itself around every singe nerve in Bucky’s body. “Steve summoned us. And only he can send us away.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky hums, watches Tony’s eyes darken as he steps up closer, chest to chest. “I told ya, Stevie’s not a summoner.” 

 

His hands are on Tony’s waist and Bucky has no memory of moving them. No matter, they fit quite perfectly there, the sharp rise of hip bones apparently made for Bucky’s palms to curl over.

 

“Well then, maybe you better stop acting like this is a goodbye.” There’s that too sharp grin again, a waft of coffee grounds that Bucky’s came to associate with home, Steve, safety and Tony. “I’ll be here once you come home in the mornin’. Might take over your bed though,” he drops his voice to that velvet smooth whisper. “I’m sure Nat missed Clint very much. It would be rude to deny them a chance to reconnect. I have a feeling you might not mind, having me in your bed.”

 

Bucky chuckles, gives in to the temptation that is Tony plainly offering what Bucky wants. He kisses him hard, takes his mouth and owns it, fuck whatever price will come to be paid later.

 

Tony opens up beautifully, tasting of coffee and arson, of dark smoke and darker promises. Lets Bucky lick inside, taste everything Tony has to offer. 

 

It’s lucky the door’s sturdy behind his back, Bucky thinks with the last flare of clarity, drinking in every single gasp and moan from Tony’s mouth. Fuck yes, Bucky’s name never sounded sweeter, not like it sounded pulled torn and needy from Tony’s throat. They’re pressed close, Bucky’s leg wedged between Tony’s. Tony’s fingers clench and unclench in Bucky’s hair.

 

Bucky wonders how late for work he can be as his fingers dip under the waistband of Tony’s boxers and in a second, he’ll have that glorious ass in his hands. Maybe he’ll even skip work, call in sick. 

 

“Not you too,” Steve’s definitely whiney voice makes Bucky slam his head straight into the door. He swears he’s seeing stars, not the good kind either, and he has never been closer to clobbering his best friend. 

 

“Fuck,” he hisses, shots him a dirty glare and Tony chuckles, the sound all warm and fond. He tiptoes, licks along Bucky’s lower lip where it’s all swollen and red and tingling.  

 

“Later, darling, later,” he purrs all filthy and sweet, and it sounds like a promise. “For now, off to work with you.” 

 

\---

 

And that’s how Natasha Romanoff becomes a permanent fixture in their lives. She’s not bound to them, like Clint and Tony are, and still, she and Clint take over the couch.

 

They use the bonus from Steve’s latest sales to buy a new wardrobe. They start thinking about moving out, perhaps something outside of the city….?

 

Tony does take over Bucky’s bed. Sort of. Falls asleep in it every night and is there every morning, and the sheets smell like coffee no matter how often they’re washed. It’s also surprisingly easy to forget what Tony is when he blinks up at Bucky, all fucked out and smiling. 

 

Jesus Christ, Bucky loves him. A fucking demon of all people, how is this even his life?

 

His coffee’s never tasted better, though.

* * *

**_Steve’s POV_ **

 

Steve, despite what Bucky might say, is not jealous. Nor a prude.

 

There’s just a certain amount of times a man can walk in on his best friend, when he’s balls deep in a demon’s ass, for it to remain awkward. Still, Steve got an eyeful one time too many and he’d rather they’d keep their devious (hah!) activities to the bedroom.

 

At least Bucky had a bedroom, Steve sighed, dipping a brush in one of his prettiest shades of blue. It matches the shades of Tasha’s dress perfectly. She and Clint are wrapped around each other, frozen in a tango pose for him to portray. They’re fully clothed, pressed so close it’s impossible to squeeze a hair between them and they’re probably one of the most erotic sights Steve has ever seen. 

 

“You know,” he starts, dragging the brush over the canvas. “For a bunch of demons, you are not what people make us believe you are.”

 

A snort comes from the kitchen and when he looks up, Tony’s bustling around the table, clearing every surface possible. The smells coming from the oven could wake the dead, as Tony has discovered the bottomless hole that are Nigella Lawson’s desserts and sweets. It’s bad enough that the muscat and blackberry jelly is off limits till it sets in properly, but there’s also an army of tiny raspberry pavlovas, a chocolate peanut butter cheesecake and a girdlebuster pie with a butterscotch topping to die for.

 

“And pray tell, what exactly did you expect? For us to start bringing in our cauldrons filled with tar? Curse you to eternal damnation?” Tony couldn’t be more of a contradiction if he tried, with the way he flitted around in a frilly apron and oversized oven mitts. “Bring our chains and whips, make your screams scare everyone away?”

 

“To name a few yeah. Tasha, can you hold your chin up for a moment, thank you, that’s perfect.”

 

Bucky shuffled in, all sleepy and soft, hiding his side as if it were tender. It probably was, too; Steve recalled Bucky muttering something about getting in fight, protecting his client’s wife from a man who had five drinks too many. 

 

Tony’s amused annoyance shifted immediately into worry as he took a step forward to Bucky, then back to the oven. 

 

Ah, the infamous battle between the pastries and the boyfriend. 

 

He gives in the second all of the pavlovas are out of the oven, all beautiful and glistening on the table. Wraps himself around Bucky, one hand gentle over his ribs.

 

“Bunch of bullshit, all that,” Tony mutters, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. “They had to come up with something, I mean if you’d learn there was a pie baking demon, how scared would you be? ‘Oooooh pie demon, so bad for my cholesterol!’ Oh please.” 

 

Bucky mutters something into Tony’s shoulder and a cup of coffee immediately materializes in the demon’s hand. He bump his nose along Bucky’s cheek, urging him to look up with the gentle gestures and quiet words. 

 

They’re all sort of disgusting, really. 

 

“Anyway,” Tony continues as if Bucky was not wrapped around him in an imitation of a human octopus, “long story short, angels are dicks.”

 

“Yeah they are,” Clint hoots in agreement, not once breaking the pose. 

 

Even Natasha hums, eyes flashing red for a second and Steve decides it’s better than he does not pursue the subject any further. 

 

He mixes up the perfect shade for Clint’s skin. 

 

“Bosch can eat it,” Tony grins, suddenly right behind his shoulder. “He wouldn’t know what a demon looked like if it bit him in the ass.”

 

“Tony, you know he was Loki’s favorite,” Tasha clucks her tongue a little. “You can’t expect anything even resembling normal from Loki.”

 

“True,” Tony hums, watches Steve work. “You’re getting better and better,  _ piccolo pittore _ . I remember Nat like this, you know. Men were so eager to give her their souls, lining up for just one dance.”

 

“Too early for your shit, Tony,” comes a mumble from the fridge, where Bucky’s hunting for anything resembling breakfast. “Jello?”

 

“Babe, don’t even. That’s for dessert.”

 

Steve chuckles, Tony hovering above his shoulder like a curious little owl. It’s warm, his presence, like a physical reminder there’s someone there with no ill intent. It still catches Steve off guard, remembering that there are three actual  _ demons _  living with them. But their days are filled with good food and good company and Bucky’s never been happier, and Steve’s been laughing more and more, his paintings gaining depth and color. 

 

“You ever met anyone else famous?” He asks, tilts his head to slightly conk it against Tony’s.

 

Before Tony can answer, Natasha grins at him, “Hernán Cortés pissed himself when I first approached him.”

 

His hand slips but the ruined painting is worth hearing the story.  In the end, Steve cannot blame the poor Spanish conqueror at all. 

 

Natasha is the most terrifying being he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

\---

 

“So you still have no idea how Steve managed to summon both of them?” Natasha asks one day during breakfast, licking maple syrup off of her fingers. 

 

On thing they’ve learned fairly quickly - demons were suckers for sweets and sugary goodness. Tony’s baking addiction wasn’t that odd in that context. 

 

“Nope,” Bucky says and pops the ‘p’, chugging down coffee as if it were water. “One pizza order and some drunken squabbling over a pizza, bam, Clint’s here. A month later, mister modern here decides to conquer the meme world, and then there’s Tony, posing like the frenchiest French girl on our table.”

 

She blinked at him, hand hovering midway with a piece of French toast, “This table?”

 

“I was dressed, no worries.” Tony pops in a grape, stretched out in his own chair. “And they scrubbed the table clean several times now. It was ridiculous Nat, like… there was no incense, no candles, no wax sigils. No books.”

 

“Well you could’ve landed someplace worse, I suppose,” she agrees with Tony quite easily, taking a small bite of the syrupy treat. She glances over at Bucky, her lips curling in a teasing smile. “Or someone worse, as a matter of fact.”

 

“True. Ain’t that true Buck-a-boo?” Tony makes a kissy face, the noises obscene on purpose and Clint cackles over his eggs and bacon.

 

Bucky looks like he’s regretting every single decision that led him to this point of life, but Steve knows the stubborn asshole, he can see how happy he is. Family was always important for Bucky, to have people around him he could love and protect and cherish, and in some twisted way, he got that.

 

Steve keeps smiling, listening to Clint and Tony exchange jabs and pokes, fighting over the last pancake only to lose it to Natasha (as usual). He’s full of good food and better coffee, and there’s still a bowl of raspberries left in front of him. 

 

If there’s perfection to be achieved in one’s life, Steve muses, this must be as close to it as a man can get. 

 

There’s a knock on the door, interrupting Tony’s story about how Da Vinci wanted to portray him after receiving the best blowjob of the era. It’s firm, but not overly strong, three nicely timed knocks, and Steve blinks in surprise.

 

There are literally no people they’d be expecting to drop in for a visit on a Saturday morning. 

 

With a sigh, Steve offers to open it, remembering what happened the last time someone knocked on their door unannounced. If Tony kept a partner or a spouse (do demons even have spouses, Christ, Steve, focus), Steve would have to act accordingly and break his nose.

 

He really doesn’t want to break Tony’s nose. He likes Tony. 

 

He braces himself for whoever Hell spewed out this time and opens the door.

 

“Angel?” He manages to whisper before his whole world freezes over and the glorious, certainly unearthly being becomes the sole center of his universe. 

 

She’s the most beautiful woman Steve has ever seen. Dressed in white, like a goddess gracing the undeserving mortals with her mere presence. Her skin is milk and honey combined, the faintest blush on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes are blue, like the clearest of skies, bright and kind and Steve would happily drown in them if only given a chance. Her smile is gentle, a Madonna with child like love etched into the laugh lines around her mouth. 

 

“I doubt that, Mister Rogers,” she says and it’s like crystal bells ringing, nightingales chirping their sweet song.

 

She glides through the air, her hair bouncing around her shoulders like flames of fire and Steve can’t do anything else but follow. He’ll always follow, his heart decides, to the end of the world, if only to see her bestow one more smile …

 

“Son of a bitch, Tony, it’s Pepper. We’re fucking dead.” 

 

“Language,” Steve says without thinking, eyes never leaving the marvelous woman's face and still he can heard Bucky groan. “We’ve been graced by an angel.”

 

“Pep, Pepper, light of my afterlife, the eternal flame in the darkest dark,” Tony rambles on as he scuttles forward, and oh, Steve will have to break his nose, “What bring you here? Not that I haven’t missed you, yes I did, my poor heart is bleeding everyday without you…”

 

She sighs, takes her hands away and takes a seat. Like a queen upon a throne, Steve’s brain supplies, and he can already imagine her in royal blues and snow white furs, him a loyal knight at her side. 

 

“The Director is worried with how long you’ve been missing. And you too, Clint,” she smiles at Clint and the poor soul tries to shrink himself behind Natasha’s chair. “Thank you for the regular reports, Natasha. They have been immensely helpful in easing the Administrator’s worries, though we have been notified more and more of her agents have been sent here.”

 

“Director? Agents?” Steve blurts out, and Bucky makes a sounds that’s somehow an embarrassed groan and a choked off laugh in the same time. 

 

“Fury’s the Director. Administrator is…” all the demons look towards the ceiling for a second, and Tony shrugs, “up there.”

 

“You mean God is an actual woman?”

 

The tiniest frown on Pepper’s exquisite face makes Steve want to hide himself, and Bucky takes a step back. Tony waves a hand and her focus is immediately back on him.

 

“Pay no mind, they’re still stuck on the tar and whips and fiery pits.”

 

“Oh poor boys,” the sound she makes is soft, almost pitying. “We should bring it up with the Administrator, then, during our next annual meeting. For which  _ you _ ,” she pokes Tony square in the chest, “are needed. And I don’t care how you do it, Tony.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course, because it’s that easy, figuring out how we were summoned without really being summoned, you have my word Pep, I will be there, because if there is someone’s wrath that scares me more than yours, it’s Aunt Peggy’s.”

 

“Good,” Pepper smiles again. 

 

“Who’s Aunt Peggy?” Steve hears Bucky whisper-ask, Natasha hoovering behind him,

 

“Tony’s godmother.” 

 

Bucky groans, hides his face in his hands and Natasha only takes a second, before she’s back with a beer. Morning or not, apparently Bucky’s reached his limit of taking things in stride.

 

Steve doesn’t blame him. 

 

In all honesty, he’d be hitting the bottle way earlier. 

 

“Thank you so much for taking care of them, Mister Rogers,” Pepper’s suddenly right in front of him, a soft, delicate hand curled around his cheek. She brushes one thumb, “I know both Tony and Clint are a handful and must require inhuman amounts of patience from both you and your friend. If there is anything I can ever help you with, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

 

She hands him an honest to God business card, the letters gold and red on a pristine white background.

 

“Yes, I...I will. Thank you, Miss Potts,” Steve stutters, and he feels the back of his neck warming up. 

 

“Pepper’s fine,” she smiles again, that smile that brightens his world, and turns to leave. 

 

Bucky’s still half slumped over the table, and she stops there, leans close to whisper something in his ear. Her hair flickers like the fires of inferno themselves in the sunlight. Bucky straightens immediately, face pale as Pepper speaks so quietly not one of them is able to hear a word. 

 

“Yes, ma'am.” Bucky says finally, spine rod-straight. “And no, ma'am.”

 

“Good.”

 

Steve moves without thinking, because his Ma’ didn’t raise no lout. He leads Pepper back to the door, stumbling over his words and feet both. 

 

“Once again,” she turns to him, stunning eyes sparkling, “thank you for offering those two a home. I must admit, while much calmer, it’s sometimes very quiet without Tony around. I think we all miss them dearly.”

 

“I… did not summon them, Miss Pepper, I really didn’t.”

 

She chuckles lightly, the sound sweet to his ears and sweeter to his heart, her smile sending his thoughts askew. 

 

“I know you didn’t, Mister Rogers.”

 

She turns to leave then and he’s about to lose her, not that he had her, because how do you keep a demon and maybe Bucky would give him advice…

 

“Coffee,” he blurts out, stepping out into the hall. 

 

Pepper raises one brow as she looks over his shoulder and Steve wants to smack himself, because of course, Tony’s the coffee demon and of course she thinks that.

 

“I mean, outside. Not from Tony,” and oh God, way to sound creepy and obnoxious, his poor Ma’ would have a heart attack, bless her soul. 

 

Pepper’s smile is radiant, her cheeks more than pink as she takes a glance at her watch.

 

“I still have an hour and a half to spare before I collect a long overdue soul. Is there anywhere you would recommend, Mister Rogers?” 

 

Steve grabs his jacket, ignores Clint’s ‘way to go, Stevie!’ and follows the demon onto the streets of New York. 

**Author's Note:**

> WinterIron Bingo fill for card "demon"
> 
> \-------  
> This thing was born and beta'ed in less than one day (thank you Lyssa!!!!) and is the result of the absolute insanity that went down at the WI server.
> 
> Hence, shoutout and huge thanks for cheering to all the beautiful people there who made that place my second home. Absolutely love you all <3


End file.
